Gay Bloggies

Hi everyone, my name is Pierre Fitch and for over 8 years I have been supported and encouraged by a loyal and wonderful segment of the adult community....who have proudly proclaimed themselves to be 'Pierre Nation' and I love them for it.

My blog was designed to be a way that old and new friends can keep up with me day to day. Everything from normal everyday stuff, to movies I saw.... to explicit sexual experiences I have :)

Since my friends and supporters have been there for me everyday, I post for them every day - with exclusive pictures and near real time replies to questions and comments,

In terms if it's maintenance, consistency - and HOTness - I believe it is what many have called a 'blog unlike any other'.

I love doing it and I hope that it shows :)

I don't think there's a better way to introduce myself (a music blogger) than to list some of the songs that are special to me and have stuck with me over the years. Honestly, this list can easily change depending on the mood I'm in. But this is a pretty good sample of songs that somehow always pop back up at different moments.

Michael Jackson "Beat It"
"Beat It" was one of the first videos I really got into. I remember rolling up my jeans and showing off my white socks, running around my Amsterdam neighborhood pretending to be Michael, who was cooler than cool at the time. He has never looked so thug again.

Madonna "Papa Don't Preach"
When I first saw the video for "Papa Don't Preach" I was immediately captivated by Madonna's new shorter do. So sleek. So sexy. And for the first time, she wasn't pictured as a sex toy, but as a mature woman with an important story to tell. From that moment on, I've considered myself a Madona fan. Another stand out track for me is "Open Your Heart," which is also from the "True Blue" album. I saved up my weekly allowance to buy the 12" inch vinyl with remixes and played it over and over again.

Pet Shop Boys "Home & Dry"
This song is very dear to me for a number of reasons. Neil Tennant of the Pet Shop Boys was the first artist I ever interviewed. Due to a scheduling conflict I was in Bejing, China where I had to speak with him over the phone. On the way to China from New York, I made a stop in Singapore. I was jetlagged, dehydrated and zoning out while listening to the Pet Shop Boys' "Release" album to prepare for my interview. "Home & Dry" struck me in particular because it is a song about flying and being far from home. It was so appropriate. (And the interview went great.)

Kylie Minogue "Love At First Sight"
Kylie was everywhere when I went to Sydney to celebrate Gay Mardi Gras in 2002. It was totally fun to live it up with those Aussie gay boys who went nuts over their much-beloved Kylie. She's is a national treasure.

Fischerspooner "Emerge"
When I first heard this song, I literally thought it was a revolution. So different, so new. It broke me down and it built me back up. There's nothing like it.

The Killers "When You Were Young"
It was a toss up between "Mr. Brightside" and this track. I think "When You Were Young" has bit more lyrical depth, but it was the synth swirl of "Mr. Brightside" that initially captivated me. Since that song came out, I've become a true Killers fan who has seen the band play in Berlin, Los Angeles etc. There was a time that I could call Brandon Flowers' mobile phone and ask him for show tickets. But now he no longer answers my calls. He's a big star now. And he deserves it. (The Abbey Road version of "When You Were Young" is chilling. Watch it here. It's classic.)

Seal "Crazy"
This is a bit of a motto song for me. One of the reasons I left Europe to live in the U.S. was because I felt boxed in. The Dutch really have a tendency to label people and expect you to behave in certain ways ("doe maar normaal, dan doe je al gek genoeg," is what they call it). When I first moved to America, I felt I could be an individual and truly go after my passions. To me that's what being "crazy" is all about. To step out of the box. You should try it.

Darren Hayes "Casey"
Darren Hayes is an extraordinary artist and I often feel his journey is somewhat similar to mine. I pick "Casey" as one of my stand out tracks because there is a sentiment of escape but also of coming home. The melodic sense of the song is incredibly strong and the Balearic sonics of it are truly uplifting. Another track related to this one is "Affirmation" by Savage Garden. Hayes talks so much truth in that.

Nelly Furtado "Like a Bird"
I feel I'm a bird sometimes, traveling, communicating, writing, living. Great song from "Whoa! Nelly," one of the decade's best albums. I like what she did with Timbaland, but Nelly's debut album is her best. I interviewed Nelly twice and there was about two years between our chats. She is extremely genuine and smart, and she even remembered very specific things that we discussed in the first interview during our second meeting. Very impressive.

Annie Lennox "Pavement Cracks"
For me this is a song about hope even though it seems dark and lonely. It is one of those evergreen gems to treasure always

Alanis Morissette "Out Is Through"
Brilliant lyrics. So true. So meaningful. Sometimes you have to go through the fire to transform and improve.

i am a man. a homebody. an artist. a wood rabbit. a writer. an intellectual stoner. a father. an enigma. an aries. a pessimistic optimist. a friend. a son. a sexy wonk. a consumer. a homosexual. a great kisser. a gippie/gippy. a romantic. a mommas boy. an idealist. a gardener. an older brother. a student. a knitter. an adventurer. a bitch. a sculptor. a jester. an obsessive compulsive. a bibliophile. a hiker. an innocent. a dork. a sun (and sin) enthusiast. a naturalist. a yogi. an excon. a cynic. a tease. an uncle. a lover. a teacher. a superhero. a geek. a devil. a dreamer. a saint. a sinner. a homebody. a walking contradiction. a procrastinator. a good deed doer. an individual. a firstborn. a fighter.

you know this. and a good deal more. at least you would if you read about a boy and his briefs. and if you don’t read my blog. there is still hope for you. fire. brimstone. and damnation can be avoided. unless you are into that kind of shit. but because youre reading this. ive at least grabbed your attention. whether by words. or flesh. or a combination of both.

i was born and raised in central illinois. and if you say it with a french accent it sounds much more exotic. the oldest of 4. i lived there until i just couldn’t take it any more. 23 years. and then moved to the big city. country mouse heads to the city. new york city. i gave myself 5 years. and ive been here 11 years this april. i have a love. like. hate. relationship with it. but i love my blog. and its 1 and a half years old. a mere baby. and was started to vent. entertain. inform. and bring a smile to the face of any 1 who happened by. and i will continue doing so even if i don’t win.

but it sure would be nice.

So I'm supposed to introduce myself. Hi, my name is Dan, my blog is called How Was Your Day, Dan?, my favorite color is blue and I like long walks in the gentle rain and I started blogging to blah blah blabbity blah. No one cares. If you want to get to know me, check out my profile on Adam4Adam.com. That's where you can find the good stuff.

Instead, let's discuss why I date older men.

Last night I go out with this guy. He's, like, mid 40's, I think?...okay, maybe late 40's. He's tall, great-looking, the little laugh lines around his eyes betraying his age on his otherwise fantastic skin. Great body, flat abs and nice arms and all the things I try to obtain by going to the gym once a month. Lots of smiles, lots of interesting things to say.

And then there's his hair: silver, shiny, lovely. I kept imagining running my fingers through it, the soft gentle waves pushed back from his brow. I love it.

I've given this a lot of thought, this whole "older guy" thing. I prefer guys with a sense of maturity; with maturity comes a certain element of wisdom, making them more easy-going and easier to deal with. Their priorities are in order. They have something to talk about, simply because they've seen more and they're more aware of the world around them. And the sex is better--it's not this rush to an orgasm, they take their time.

But I think it is the hair...specifically, silver-white hair. I can track my obsession to when I was in third grade, and I discovered X-Men comics. All the coolest heroes and villains had that silvery-white hair. Magneto? Storm? They could kick your ass. And they'd do it while strapped into full-body spandex, with their big heads of white hair flying all over the place.

Even when I was a freshly-hatched gay in my young 20's, I chased after the guys who, at the time, were old enough to be my father. But it's not a daddy thing, I don't like to be bossed around or "taken care of," and I don't like for them to be TOO old. These days I'm finally catching up to my dating pool, which at least makes the whole situation more socially acceptable. Although it doesn't really matter; when you're a generation younger than your date, people automatically presume you're for rent.

I dated a "Mr. Big" kind of guy for about a year, a relationship during which we traveled together on lots of his business trips to Paris and Las Vegas and wherever, and I'd stand behind him in hotel lobbies and smile as he'd request a room with one bed. Then room service would arrive--we NEVER ate in the hotel restaurants, God forbid--and I'd get the looks from the servers, who just knew why I was there. But even though his company paid for our trips and our meals and all the glamourous lifestyle, I never took money from him. In a weird way, it was fun...this illusion of tawdriness, like I was this naughty jet-setting hooker sexing an older man to the edge of his life so I could steal all his money. Meanwhile, in reality we were just a boring couple, watching movies and reading in bed together. And he'd lay his head on my chest so I could run my fingers through his hair until he fell asleep.

My God, the day I met Anderson Cooper I literally had shaky knees. Cute, smart AND prematurely gray? Forget it. I was a mess. We were both working on an episode of that FX show Son Of The Beach, which for some reason had on a bunch of TV people playing guest roles on a particular episode. Anderson took a break from cradling orphans in the minefields of war-torn countries, and he came by to hang out on set that day. At the lunch truck--which they call "craft services," if you'd like to know the official lingo--I wormed my way into line behind him just to have an excuse to sit at his table.

Y'know, we were all working on the same project, everyone else was very friendly and talked to each other; I really wanted to introduce myself and engage him in a real conversation, I wasn't trying to get his autograph or something. But when I tried to strike up a chat, he wouldn't even look at me. It wasn't just me, he didn't speak to anyone at all. Turns out, Anderson Cooper is not the friendiest guy. Granted, it could have been because we were also sitting with Adam Carolla, who was babbling on endlessly with stories about smoking pot and bowel movements and the other idiotic garbage that fills his brain; listening to him was enough to kill the mood with anyone. I like to think my Anderson and his gray hair would like me very much if given the the chance. And if he was A LITTLE MORE PLEASANT next time.

So that's me. I like walking in the rain, Anderson Cooper ruined my life, and I think guys with gray hair are sexy. And when people judge me for it, I get a twisted sense of excitement.

Thanks for reading. Bye.

PS: My scene in Son Of The Beach? I was totally edited out. FX can suck it.

Hay boys! It seems like I'm the lone ranger waving the sissy flag.

17 my ass oh how I wish.

I've been blogging for years and quite frankly, if you haven't heard of me in any shape or form then you probably live under a rock somewhere. I exist and that's that. Besides, I'm not really good when it comes to introducing myself in front of them gays. The last time I pulled shit like this was back in 1999 when I went to a gay teen youth group meeting in London (never, I repeat, never read Time Out when you're bored and horny). I wore a massive Gucci fox fur coat that night and my opening line was "is this the gay teen youth group? am I the only gay person around here?" You should've seen the fracas and the commotion I created amongst a bunch of 15 year old Adidas-and-Reebok clad English boys -- culture shock in their own homeland. It was soo strange because the topic that night was "coming out" and all these young boys were being melodramatic about coming out to the people they love and I couldn't relate at all. They even put me on the spot, asking all sorts of silly questions but they totally avoided asking me whether I'm out. I think it was good that they didn't ask me because I never had to "come out". In my case, there was really no need for it. I'm lucky enough to have an amazing family who just "knew" the moment I busted out of my mum's vajayjay with flying colours. It was then that I realized I don't belong to a god damn youth group, I belong to a nightclub, getting my ass gangbanged in the darkrooms that I should be more accepting of the gays -- they come in various shapes, sizes and colours and none of them are as lucky as I am.

I'm obliged to tell more about myself so if you haven't come out of the big giant pink box, well...

I'm Bryanboy and I'm planet earth's favourite third world fag. I'm so gay I sweat glitter! I'm also the one-man circus princess behind Bryanboy.com. I live in the cesspit of the third world also known as the Philippines (third world represent!). I like to tell people I'm 17 years old but in reality I'm 19. I don't let my age get in the way. After all, age is only a number... until you turn 30, that is.

I love fashion but my own personal style is highly questionable. Some people think I'm full of myself while some think I self-deprecate too much. I like to watch arses get filled with hot creamy white population paste but I'm a "bottom boi" or whatever the hell they call it these days, "power bottom"? Eeew. Anyway, I'm full of contrasts and that's what makes me colourful. Repeat after me: I'm a smart, intelligent, businesswoman.

Random trivia: I love anything striped. I like going to remote places where nobody can see me prance around in high heels, take pictures in exchange for lots of web hits. 65 Guy Creampie starring Ariana Jollee is my favourite movie ever, followed by Romy & Michelle's High School Reunion. When I was 13, I used to call those phone sex hotlines in the Carribean that you find on the back pages of Rolling Stone magazine. My favourite line to pick up guys? "Hi, my name is Amber, I'm 16 and I have a bald pussy." I have a small tattoo of a gecko beside my belly button that I got when I was 14.

And there you have it. Visit my blog, www.bryanboy.com, if you want to learn more about me.

Geography is no boundary when it comes to Bryanboy's faggotry. Email me and tell me you love me! My email address is bryanboy@gmail.com.

I love you all! Keep the faggotry alive!

PS. Stop whatever it is that you are doing and vote for me.

PPSS. You know the other day, one of my straight Serbian friends asked me what gays in my country look like. I wanted to shut my piehole and not make a comment until he googled and found photos of one of the gay clubs in Manila (I've only been there once earlier this year)... and then I realized, dayuuummmm I'm pretty... and it hurts!

Just kidding!! OMG. I love everybody so vote for me ;)

One thing I've learned from writing !! omg blog !! since 2003 is that no one likes a blog entry that takes longer than one minute to read and digest, and that's only if there is some sort of nudity. Otherwise it's thirty seconds. So here I go: start counting.

It all started with a simple mirror.

That healthy interest in myself led naturally to an interest in spandex.

Which continued into adulthood. I had to glue my friend's hair onto my face because I can't grow a real moustache.

My cat Anderson Pooper is adorable.

He sits with me while I write my blog, which serves only one purpose: to entertain you. It's not my online diary nor any other sort of emotional outlet. I only hope it makes you laugh, or think, or get a boner.

Remember what sets !! omg blog !! apart:
Our readers are smarter than average.

So do the smart thing and vote for me, please please please. I really need the money.

xo Frank

So, we've been told to introduce ourselves. Very well then.

Hi, I'm Ernie. First thing's first: let it be known that you'll never, ever see a photograph of me with my shirt off or in a pair of speedos, at least not without the thickest sense of irony ever. C'mon, you don't want to see that and, thanks to a poor self body-image, neither do I. (Christ, it's like the shirtless guy from the SeanCody.com ad is just sitting their with his arms crossed, judging me.) Instead, I'll include a photograph of my very first time at a firing range, at an event called, no lie, "Geeks with Guns." Buck buck, muthafucka.

I've been writing a blog called Little, Yellow, Different for seven years or so, back in an age when blogs were short for "web logs" and the people that write them weren't being paid to talk about Paris Hilton on VH1's Best Week Ever or making an appearance on The View. I'm also the editor of the absolutely-nothing-to-do-with-being-gay website 8Asians.com, which is a website about, uhm, Asian America. (No porn. Sorry, rice queens.) In any case, I started my website at a time where everyone who wrote a blog was a raging computer geek.

And believe you me, I am a computer geek. Not in a cute "OMG Peter from Heroes is so cute" type of geekery, but a horrifying type of geekdom where if I were to start talking, your eyes would probably glaze over and you'd quickly require a porn chaser (which, might I add, is available for you conveniently via one of the sponsored links to your right.) I currently work as a web developer for a major Internet company in San Francisco. A good amount of people at said major Internet company are aware that I have a blog, and every so often I'll lie in bed in horror at the realization that a major Fortune 500 executive has read in vivid detail about my friend of a friend's asshole when they had come to my website expecting a synopsis about decentralized social networking. But so long as I'm not divulging any company secrets - and I'm not - it's all good.

As far as home life, I had previously lived in the suburbs for the past four years, where I dutifully lived ten minutes away from my elderly Chinese parents and bought a condominium and did what dutiful Asian sons do, which consist of listening to your parents complain about each other and ask, on a near-daily basis, when they're going to move in. After having a small mental breakdown, I got the fuck out of dodge and moved to the Mission district in San Francisco, where I live a block away from a hipster Lesbian bar and two blocks away from a bunch of crackheads.

And there you go. Vote as you wish.

My real name REALLY is Fausto Fernós and I was born and lived until the age of 16 on the Island of Puerto Rico.

You might be thinking, "funny, you don't look or sound Puertorican," but I am. Living in San Juan, we grew up speaking both English and Spanish, watching a ton of American made television programs like "Alice" and "The Jeffersons." I learned how to talk this way from watching Flo and Florence sass around at their jobs.

I've always dreamed of being a talk-show host. When I first saw the David Letterman TV show I was floored by the creative, hilarious gags they did on the show. Remember Dave throwing watermelons off the roof? In slow motion, they looked like fruit flavored fireworks. I was stunned when Sandra Bernhardt and Madonna held hands and told the world they were dating. I remember Grace Jones coked up rolling on Letterman's desk. I knew I had to have this in my life.

I work seven days a week on a popular talk show I produce with my husband Marc Felion called the "Feast of Fools." It's an amazing job recording a talk show that is heard by tens of thousands of people, especially gay people all over the world. It sometimes blows my mind the power of the internet to bring individuals together from such great distances. Teenagers in rural Alabama, senior citizen lesbians in California and Muslim gays living in Iran listen to the show.

I've had the opportunity to talk to celebrities, musicians, writers and activists from all walks of life. I sat in the back seat of Kathy Griffin's limousine and was invited to grab her breasts to check if they were real (they were real). I fed apple pie to Star Trek's George Takei (it was delicious). I asked Paula Poundstone point blank if she was a lesbian and she said no (she's asexual).

I fought with a Madonna impersonator at the Apple store in downtown Michigan Avenue:

One thing most of the celebrities that have been on our show have in common is that they are generally optimistic people. They don't let themselves get bogged down in petty conflicts, they are happy people. They embrace new technologies and a new opportunity to speak about themselves and their work to an audience that might not always know that side about them.

One thing I treasure most is the interviews with people from parts of the world were just being gay is still illegal, where slavery is commonplace and where women are treated as second class citizens. We've spoken to activists from Nigeria, Russia and Thailand and asked them all the same questions at the end of the interview that we asked the celebrities- What makes you mad? What's for dinner? What happens when we die?

At the beginning of every show we ask our listeners to buy a t-shirt and then remind them that "without you, we're nothing." Indeed we are nothing with out them. My loving partner Marc Felion is the other half of the heart that makes the show pulse. I couldn't do it with out him.

The Feast of Fools gets it's title from an essay from early gay rights activist Harry Hay who felt gays should "embrace a certain frivolity." Hay envisioned a future where people felt free to express themselves fully and honestly and therefore “act foolish.”

I hope my talk show is part of Harry Hay's dream of equality being made into a reality.
Click here to subscribe to the show for FREE on iTunes.

Just for fun, here is a sexy photo montage of Hollywood hunk Chris Evans:

So, I'm Scott Anthony. People always ask me if it's like Mary Kate. Well, no, not quite. My birth certificate does not list Scott Anthony as my first name, but my mom used to called me "Scott Anthonyyyyyy!" in an endearing Filipino rage when she was mad at me, so it sort of stuck with my friends and loved ones.

I've lived in NYC for the past three-and-some-odd years. I was a good student in school down in North Carolina, and was all set to go to a great state school, or whatever kids are supposed to do. That all changed after visiting New York in my senior year of high school. It was oppressively muggy, the subway system scared the shit out of me, I felt in over my head...and I loved it. I immediately made plans to move up here, and everyone thought I was insane. I had no plans. Now that I think of it, I guess I may have been insane in the paradigm of practicality, but I think that's a paradigm within which I've never really bothered to exist.

So, I moved here, and was homeless for a good month or two before falling into step with a drag queen and getting a bunch of bar work: go-go dancing, barbacking, door, etc. It was actually pretty amusing to do the door and drink at gay bars at barely 18, and turning others away because they weren't 21.

Last year, I applied at Columbia on a whim and got in. This tends to bug people I tell, people who worked their asses off and still were rejected. I spent the year doing studies, and kicking total ass (3.6 GPA)...and then I ran out of money. Of course, Columbia doesn't care, so my life now consists of paying off the year and then going to a state school. I always view life with no regrets. It sucks that I made the dean's list there but didn't get any more money, but it's a good résumé builder, and it's another rock in life that I've climbed successfully.

Everything works out for a reason. Going there made me realize I have absolutely no desire to live a life of academia. My goal is to go to a grad school for Oriental medicine. Right now, I'm paying bills through bar work--I never stopped--and day jobs (my current one is an Apple reseller on 23rd; you may know it?).

From naïve Southerner, to homeless New Yorker, to go-go boy, to Ivy Leaguer, to bartender: I'm really just enjoying life, and knowing that I've always done things on my own terms, and always will. It's a good feeling, no?

xxScott Anthonyyyyy!

P.S. Visit my blog!

So we were tasked to introduce ourselves. Hello. My name is Craig, and I write the blog: Puntabulous.

Wait, you want more? Fine.

The main thing you should know about me is that I'm a dork. The biggest dork you'll ever meet in your entire life. I know what you're thinking: "You're just saying you're a dork to make yourself look endearingly cute." To which I reply: "You think I'm cute?!" Swoon! And then you're like: "That's not what we said." And I ignore you.

You need specific examples of my dorkiness? Fine.

1. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a paleontologist when I grew up. I know what you're thinking. What's the big deal? Every kid wants to be a paleontologist when they grow up at some point. It's right up there with veterinarian and astronaut as every kids' dream job for a week. But you see, I actually went to school to be a paleontologist. I was a geology major with a concentration in biology. I implore you to find a dorkier major than geology. And if that wasn't bad enough, me and my geology friends put the phrase "Geology Rocks" on the top of our graduation caps. Hells to the yeah. Oh! And ask me if I'm currently a paleontologist. Go ahead. Ask me. Nope! Not a paleontologist. After graduation I entered the real world, went back to school to get a Masters in Business, then got a real job.

2. I easily fall in love with literary figures. Now you see, falling in love with literary figures wouldn't be so bad if they were respectable literary figures such as Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice or whoever Richard Chamberlain played in The Thorn Birds. But I primarily read Star Wars books, so I fall in love with characters like Anakin Solo (Han and Leia's third child, obvs!). In my defense, I bet Jedis are amazing in bed.

3. I put entirely too much thought into making up new words, including "polytonous". You know, like "monotonous", but with a "poly" instead of a "mono". For example:

Person A: "One time I peed in one of those Chuck E. Cheese ball pits. I was 37 years old at the time."

Person B: "What's a ball pit?"

Person A: "You know, those big bins with all the polytonous balls in it."

Person B: "Oh yeah! Dude, you're gross!"

If a large group of similar objects can be monotonous, why can't a large group of varying (yet somehow similar) objects be polytonous?

So I think that paints a pretty clear picture of the person I am. If you need more examples of my dorkiness, please note that a) My eyebrows are enormous, b) I'm 26 and live with my parents, c) I sleep in a twin bed, d) I've never had a boyfriend, e) I have the soundtrack to Battlestar Galactica on my iPod.

Enough said.

Check out my blog: Puntabulous

Conceived on a January beach on California's Monterey Peninsula, sea lions barking in the distance, Richard might well have grown up as an environmentally responsible heterosexual. His father was taking a break from saving the world from Japanese imperialism and his mother had moved to California to rivet and enjoy the occasional conjugal visit from her hero.

But family nagged his parents back to New York and he was instead born on 17th Street and Second Avenue in a building that is now a luxury Manhattan condominium. Repeated visits to City Hall have failed to earn his birthplace Landmark Status or even a bronze plaque. In any case, yanked from his place of conception by demanding grandmothers, Richard came into the world gay, neurotic and incapable of recycling.

Richard experienced his first orgasm at the age of 11 during nude swimming lessons with 30 other boys at the Young Men's Hebrew Association. The incident, involving a pool filter, did not escape the notice of the swimming instructor and Richard was sent to a psychologist who, after nine months of therapy, declared the young boy to be cured of all homosexual tendencies. Richard is still aroused by the smell of chlorine and the throb of pool filtration systems. Upon learning that her son was gay some 30 years later, Richard's mother demanded a refund from the doctor. Unfortunately, the child psychologist had passed away.

In order to avoid Vietnam (yes, he is that old) Richard stayed in college long enough to earn two degrees, one in History and the other in Sociology. These two areas of study well equipped Richard to pursue a very successful career in public relations where at great profit he manipulated the behavior and opinions of millions upon millions of gullible Americans. Have a headache? Take ADVIL. Richard is the guy who conned you into believing that branded ibuprofen is better than generic ibuprofen at half the price.

At the age of 40 Richard determined to commit suicide rather than continue life in the closet. As a going away gift to himself he flew to Amsterdam and threw a farewell party that included losing his gay virginity to 12 male escorts over five days. Unfortunately for those who were anxiously awaiting his arrival in the afterlife, Richard reacted to those 12 men the way some people supposedly react to a certain brand of potato chips: he couldn't stop at just one, he couldn't stop at just 12.

Today, some 18 years and about 1,500 potatoes chips since that fateful trip to Amsterdam, Richard still hasn't found his satiation point regarding salty snacks. In addition to his work in public relations, Richard has today become obsessed with blogging and is also nearing completion of his first book documenting the history of the relationship between three generations of his family, homosexuality and prostitution.

As he approaches his senior years, AARP discounts and Golden Passes at the local AMC Multiplex, Richard, never able to resist a challenge, has set out through his Blog to establish himself as the dirtiest old gay man in America. Few readers fail to notice how this vision informs his daily blogs and passion for photographing naked men. Some people say his blog is NSFW, but if that's the case, he believes, you should change your place of work.

If you want to know more about his blog, go read it. He's way too busy with his goals to grab you by the salty snacks and lead you to the spawn of his libido, imagination and insurmountalbe wisdom--the only thing about him, by the way, that remains insurmountable. And if you're too lazy to click on over to Proceed At Your Own Risk, here's a little taste of what you're missing--in addition to his brilliant insights on politics, religion, art, foot tapping and growing old with a yet to be managed libido.

CITIZENDANGERX IS WIDELY RECOGNIZED AS THE WORLD’S FOREMOST LOMOCELEBUTANTATOGRAPHER.

AFTER A BRIEF AND TRAUMATIC INTERNSHIP AS SHOULDER-PAD TECHNICIAN ON THE HIT TV SHOW DYNASTY, CITIZENDANGERX LEFT THE GLAMOROUS WORLD OF PRIME-TIME TELEVISION TO FOCUS SOLELY ON PHOTOGRAPHY AND RAISING MINIATURE DROMEDARY.

Ok, wait. HOLD IT! Don't believe a word of that (as if you did.)

Here's the real skinny: I'm a 30-year old man. I like sharing my slightly-skewed view of the world with the people who read my blog. At citizendangerx.com you can read about a wide-range of subjects from the hottest new music to my favorite recipe for greenbean casserole (the secret is in the cream!) And I love photography. I'm addicted to self-portraiture and snapping photos of the world around me. Oh yeah, and hot naked people. I work too much, date too little and love my crazy life.

I'm a guy who is stuck in the middle. I have a corporate job that pays the rent, and a creative passion that threatens to break the bank at times. Too thick to be a twink and not gruff enough to be a bear. Not quite as funny as David Sedaris, but better looking? (Or at least a lot less annoying sounding. Have you heard that voice?!)

I'm like Sarah Silverman in a Chewbacca costume. Seriously. Vote for me!

XO

D'Mike.

Hello peeps! Welcome to the 2008 Gay Bloggies! Through the next few weeks, I, Toby, shall be your humble Master of Ceremony (the boys at Team QC said I had been vacationing way too much lately and I concur so let's just say I purposely drew the short straw!)

So here we have our Top 12 Blog Warriors, all shiny and ready to pit their blogging prowess against one another. What's going to happen in Battle Royale? I'm so nervous just thinking about it my little paws are trembling...

We'll be dishing out Challenges (ranging from the intellectual to the silly and somewhere in between, some time-sensitive, some not) and after each one, we'll be booting one fella blogger outta the race based on popularity - and that's what those little thumbs up-and-down buttons are for - all readers are invited to vote for your favourite blogger/entries post challenge. We've all watched enough reality programmes to be well-schooled in how all this works.

We're going to start with an easy peasey challenge for everyone to get to know our twelve contestants better.

CHALLENGE 0: INTRODUCE YOURSELF.

See, it's super easy, however, the sky's the limit, so get creative and fancy and hopefully impress the heck outta us.

Deadline: Get cracking now! We don't want lazyboners! Woof!